The sunlight bled across the yard, painting the arena in molten gold as Hornstein's hand dropped.
"Begin!"
Ibaal moved first, fast and smooth, like a veteran already. His training blade cut through the air with a hum, aimed straight for Senko's shoulder.
Senko twisted to the side, the blow grazing harmlessly past him. Dirt kicked up beneath his boots as he slid backward, measuring Ibaal with narrowed eyes.
This wasn't some wild, sloppy brawler like Garven.This was precision.
Power.
Pride.
Ibaal smirked as he reset his stance. His arms were corded with lean muscle; his form near perfect.
The son of Koya the Great.
Senko gripped his sword tighter.Focus.
Ibaal came again, faster, heavier this time. Their blades clashed with a sharp metallic ring that echoed across the yard. Sparks flew from the impact. The crowd leaned forward, holding their breath.
Senko grunted, parrying a flurry of strikes. Each hit rattled down his arms.Ibaal was pressing him hard, testing him.
Senko ducked low, sweeping his leg out to trip Ibaal, but the bigger boy leapt back effortlessly, laughing under his breath.
"You're strong," Ibaal said casually. "But you're not enough."
He charged again, sword raised.
Senko met him head-on.
Steel screamed against steel.
Blow after blow rained down, Ibaal relentless, Senko defensive.
Each strike jarred something loose inside Senko, something old and seething.The world around him grew dimmer, the edges of his vision turning dark.
The voice came like a blade through mist.
"You're so weak."
Senko staggered for half a second. Ibaal's sword clipped his side — not deep, but enough to sting.
The crowd gasped.
Senko gritted his teeth, refocusing.
But the voice came again, closer now, sliding into his mind like poison.
"Is this all you are, boy? A shell to be broken? A coward dressed as a warrior?"
Senko's heart pounded. He blocked another blow almost blindly.
Shut up, he thought.
The voice chuckled — low, deep, hungry.
"You're standing in my world now, little king. My prison. My playground."
A shadow shifted in the corners of Senko's mind, darker than anything he had ever felt before.
Itami.
The demon sealed inside him had finally found its tongue.Outside, Leon leaned forward, eyes wide.
"Come on, Senko," he whispered.
Master Hornstein frowned, sensing the flicker of unnatural energy pulsing around the boy.
Above, Arden and Shinra exchanged glances.
"He's slipping," Arden said.
"Or waking up," Shinra corrected with a smile.Ibaal swung low; Senko barely dodged, stumbling. His breathing grew ragged.
Inside, Itami's voice whispered and roared all at once.
"Let me help you. Just a taste. One swing, boy. One breath of my power and he'll kneel before you like all the rest."
Senko's vision blurred.
He saw himself standing victorious over Ibaal, over everyone — flames licking the ground, the scent of ash and blood filling the air.
He saw Leon staring at him in terror.He saw Korra's golden hair stained red.
Senko squeezed his eyes shut for a split second.
No.
He slammed his foot into the dirt, forcing himself steady.
Ibaal took the opening, shoulder-checking him hard across the field. Senko hit the ground with a grunt, dust clouding around him.
The crowd murmured.
Another clean hit and it would be over.
Hornstein's hand twitched, ready to intervene if needed.
Ibaal pointed his sword down at Senko.
"You're done," he said simply.
Senko looked up through the haze.
The demon laughed.
"Say the word, little king. I'll break him for you. I'll break them all."
Senko's hand shook.
He could feel it — the terrifying well of power just beyond his reach, like a locked gate ready to shatter.
He closed his fist.
Not yet. Not like this.
He pushed himself to his feet, swaying slightly.
Ibaal sighed.
"Pity," he said.
He lunged.
Senko moved without thinking.
For a heartbeat, it wasn't him fighting — it was instinct, rage, survival.
Their blades clashed again — but this time, Senko twisted at the last second, driving his shoulder into Ibaal's chest.
Ibaal stumbled, surprised.
Senko didn't give him space. He unleashed a flurry of strikes — rough, desperate, furious.
The crowd roared.
Ibaal parried one — two — three blows, but the fourth slipped through, catching his arm.
He hissed, stepping back.
Blood dripped down his sleeve.
Ibaal's expression sharpened. No more playing.
"Fine," he said.
Their swords rose in unison.Above them, the sky darkened slightly — a storm gathering somewhere far beyond the academy.
Thunder grumbled faintly.
Itami's laughter rumbled through Senko's mind like an echo of the storm.
"Good… GOOD. Feel it. Taste it. You belong to me, little king. You always have."
Senko bared his teeth.
"I belong to no one," he hissed under his breath.
Ibaal charged.
Senko met him halfway.
The impact was brutal.
The arena shook with the force of their clash.
For a moment, it was just two boys fighting — swords, blood, will.
And then—
Senko's wrap slipped slightly.
The purple beneath his eye pulsed.
Those watching leaned closer, unease rippling through the crowd.
Korra narrowed her eyes from the sidelines.
"What was that…?"
Leon felt his stomach drop.
"Senko…"Inside, Itami smiled, a mouth full of razors and flame.
"Soon."
Senko grit his teeth so hard it hurt.
He would not lose himself.
Not today.
He ducked under Ibaal's next strike, swinging hard at the bigger boy's legs.
Ibaal jumped, but Senko was already moving, striking high, forcing Ibaal into pure defense.
The demon's voice grew louder, pounding against the walls of his mind.
"Crush him!""Tear him down!""BECOME ME!"
Senko roared, slamming his sword into Ibaal's with a force that sent vibrations up both their arms.
Ibaal's eyes widened, just a fraction.
Senko seized the moment, sweeping Ibaal's legs out from under him.
The son of Koya the Great crashed to the dirt, sword slipping from his hand.
Senko stood over him, blade raised—
—and froze.
Inside, Itami laughed.
"Do it. Strike. Let me in."
Senko's hands trembled.
He could end it.
He could win.
But he knew… it wouldn't be his victory.
It would be Itami's.Hornstein's voice cut through the roaring in Senko's head.
"Enough!"
Senko blinked, the world snapping back into focus.
Ibaal lay on the ground, panting, not moving to rise.
Senko's sword dropped to his side.
The fight was over.
The demon retreated slightly, disappointed, but still watching. Always watching.
Senko stumbled back, chest heaving.
The Masters spoke in hurried whispers.The ranked warriors murmured among themselves.
Above it all, Shinra smiled.
Arden's expression remained unreadable.Hornstein raised his hand.
"Victor: Senko Yuhira of White Fangs."
Gasps rippled through the yard.
A White Fang had won.
Again. Senko stood in the center of the field, sweat running down his spine, the blood pounding in his ears.
Somewhere inside him, Itami coiled like a serpent, patient and smiling.
"You can't fight forever," he whispered.
"Soon, you'll beg for me."
Senko lifted his head.
The wind tore across the yard, hot and heavy.
The trials had just begun.
And the real war — the war inside him — was only getting stronger.
To be continued…